


the promises I keep

by thir13enth



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Gen, Zeno-centric, for the akayona zine!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: it doesn't matter that you've lost track of how many years have gone by





	the promises I keep

**Author's Note:**

> written for [the akayona zine, From Here On](https://akayona-zine.tumblr.com/)!

Zeno doesn’t count the years anymore, and moreover, he doesn’t even remember the last time he ever counted in the first place.

The sun rises and falls, the moon waxes and wanes, and the stars spin endlessly around the night sky — no end or beginning to their journeys.

The seasons come and go: the snow melts into pink and purple blossoms before collapsing into the wind after their leaves turn to dust. Forever becomes finite: the river carves its current into the stones of its banks but shrinks as its land goes dry, the forest grows green but burns red, and the mountains climb high into the clouds but crumble into the ocean before it is too long.

But Zeno does not change — not with the days, not with the seasons, not like anything else that exists under this vast blue sky he has spent more than several hundred lifetimes watching. Time passes, but he does not move with it. There is no past, and there is no future. There is only the present, and he is always, only, and ever present.

He is the constant in the universe. He is the one thing that will never fade. He is the immortal river, the strongest rock, the unforgiving forest that persists beyond the cycle of life and death.

Sometimes this makes him feel like a god; other times he feels no more than a monster.

He’s thought every thought to think, and he’s lived every life there is to live. He’s seen all the very best versions of this world and experienced all the very worst of them; nothing surprises him anymore — which is why one day he is surprised when suddenly his midday contemplations are interrupted as a small paper falls past his nose to the ground by his feet.

“What’s this?” he asks himself, picking the slip swiftly between his fingers.

He reads it slowly, or at least attempts to. If there is something he still hasn’t learned to do despite his thousand-year life span, it’s how to keep up with the written language…  

_Look behind you!_

And then at once behind him —

“Surprise!”

Zeno blinks. Yoon holds out a large circular cake, Kija extends a claw of a large bouquet of flowers, Jae-ha wears a large mischievous smile on his face, Shin-ah and Ao lingers unapologetically close to him, Hak musters something more than a frown, and Yona carries a small box in the palm of her hand.

He still cannot determine what’s going on.

“Surprise?” Zeno asks, incredulous and — given the number of recent pranks — just as equally suspicious.

Well, they would certainly have him this time.

“Yes!” Kija exclaims.

They look at him as though they expect him to know precisely the situation, but Zeno knows that even with at least two thousand years of existence, there is still no amount of wisdom ever enough to comprehend everything that happens around him.

Still, he plays it off like he completely understands — after all, that strategy has worked successfully for the last several centuries.

“Ah, yes!” he shouts, throwing both hands up to the air. “Cake! I love cake!” He nods to the bouquet in Kija’s arms and the box Yona offers him. “And I love flowers and presents!”

Yona’s warm smile grows wider, and she giggles with a shake of her head. “I don’t think he gets it,” she remarks to the others.

“Idiot,” Jae-ha murmurs.

Taken aback, Zeno’s eyebrows furrow. “What don’t I get?” he asks.

“It’s your birthday!” Yona explains brightly.

“Birthday?”

Hak sighs loudly. “I told you he’d forget.”

“It’s August 30!” Kija reminds him. “Your birthday!”

Birthday. Ah, yes. His beginning.

Zeno laughs, embarrassed, shaking his hands out in front of him in defense of his ignorance. “Oh, no, no,” he explains. “I just didn’t realize that was something to still celebrate.” He looks at Yoon’s elaborately decorated cake, which — now that he looks at arrangement of the fruit, he can read that it spells out happy birthday in kanji — and smiles. “Thank you.”

“Of course, it’s something to celebrate!” Kija exclaims, bewildered as though that was the most preposterous things he’s ever heard.

Zeno gives them a small smile, taking the flowers from Kija and settling them onto his lap. “I barely remember how old I am,” he says softly.

And maybe the gravity of what he says suddenly settles over the group, but the silence afterwards is uncharacteristically loud.

Yona returns just as complex of a smile to him. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve stopped counting,” she says, ever remarkably wise for how little time she’s stood on the earth. “How long you’ve been here doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here with us.”

She opens the box in her hands. Inside, there is an intricately woven bracelet — braided red, gold, and black twine in spirals of patterns.

“I know you don’t like to own things,” she continues, taking both ends of the bracelet in her hands and holding it out to him. “But I hope this will remind you of all our friendships.”

He gives her his wrist, and she ties the bracelet securely around.

Over time, his birthday has become less of a celebration of his life and more of a reminder of his curse. In the past when he’s tried to enjoy the passing year, he’s lied to himself that he is mortal. But that has brought him more lasting pain than hedonistic pleasure, and after generations of trying to make the best of his situation, he’s learned the only way to cope with his immortality is to simply accept it.

Again and again. Reminding himself to look forward to nothing — because there is nothing to look forward to. Not for someone that doesn’t change, not for some life with no direction.

But now — as he looks at the happy faces around him — he thinks maybe there is something to anticipate with the passing years.

And he supposes this is what he appreciates the most. Time comes and goes, things live and die. Everything is predictable and expected — yet at the same time, always new friends provide him a new perspective in life, and suddenly the world around him looks new and unexperienced once again.

He knows this bracelet will eventually wear down — all the threads that hold it together will break and the friends whose memories it represents will pass — long before his undying body.

But yes, he will wear this for as long as time permits him. If there is one thing immortality grants, it’s the power to keep promises. For eternities.

He smiles. “Of course,” he replies.


End file.
